The Dragonborn Chronicles
by Macattack22
Summary: The Emperor of Tamriel, the Dragonborn of the Fourth Era, recalls his life story to the Breton scribe Marcurio. Tales of the Dovahkiin's conquests, trials , and adventures are chronicled in these chapters. The Dragonborn will also reveal his deepest secrets in this epic retelling of the Dovahkiin's story.


Marcurio sat across from man who ruled all of Tamriel, the Dragonborn of the Fourth Era, Kjell Snow-Hammer, Emperor of Tamriel. Age had withered the once strong stature of the Emperor, who was going on 106 years, an outstanding age for a mortal of non-elven descent. The Emperor, now supported by a staff, slowly sat across from the Breton scribe.

"So, I see you've come to talk, to learn my story," Emperor Kjell sputtered out. With his incredible age, came a slight speech impediment that caused him to slur his words.

Marcurio straightened himself in his chair and prepared his quill and parchment. "Yes, my lord. You see I've come all the way from Wayrest to hear your story."

"Ah yes, well I hope you've come prepared, this could take a while, and by a while I mean a couple of days," Kjell said to the eager scribe.

"Yes, my lord, I am more than prepared to hear your story."

"Of course, but first tell me a bit about yourself. It would be impolite for me to go on and on about myself and not know anything about the man I'm speaking to," Kjell implored. He began to cough, and was approached by a servant who spooned some sort of solution into his mouth.

"Please do not keep the Emperor too long," The servant said to Marcurio. "His age has limited his memory and his physical health."

The Emperor waved the servant away and turned his attention back to Marcurio. "What was I saying? Oh, yes, you were starting to tell me about yourself, I remember."

Marcurio now understood what the servant had been saying. If he couldn't remember what he was saying less than ten seconds ago, how could he remember what had happened 100 years ago?

Marcurio began his story. "Well, I grew up in a small village outside of Wayrest. My mother was an alchemist and my father was a sell-sword. Once my older brother was born, he traded in his sword for a pickaxe. I grew up in the shadow of my older brother, Agris, who made himself famous for being a warrior. My father insisted that I take up the sword myself, but I was never really one for fighting. Instead, I prefer to use my mind to solve my problems. Anyhow, I lived a humble life with my parents and two sisters."

"What provoked you to leave?" Kjell interrupted.

"I went to the market one day, and I saw a royal herald pass through. I recognized him as an old friend who happened to be a strong practice of the arcane arts. He intrigued me with his tales of his travels, from Skyrim to Valenwood. So, when I turned 19, I left home to study at the College of Winterhold. I spent several years learning from teachers who had studied under you, my lord, who were amateurs when you were Arch-Mage of the College. However, I couldn't stand the desolate city of Winterhold, so when the opportunity arose for me to become the Arch-Mage, I refused. Staying in that gods-forsaken city would mean a death-penalty for me. So, after 15 years of studying magic, I decided to write and explore. Over several years, I studied and chronicled the lives of extraordinary individuals and events in history. But before I settled down, I absolutely had to document the most esteemed individual of our era, you, my Lord. The Dragonborn, Harbinger of the Companions, Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold, and Emperor of Tamriel."

Emperor Kjell shifted in his chair. "Well, I see you've waited quite a while for this moment, haven't you? It's good to know a little bit about the person I'm about to pour out my life secrets before. Anyhow, let's begin before I dissolve into a fit of coughing. Now, where should I begin?"

Marcurio readied his quill and ink. "Well, let's see. Start with your childhood and early life." As Marcurio finished his sentence, another servant came to where they were sitting, carrying a platter full of grapes, bread and cheeses. The Emperor thanked the servant before she departed.

"Right, my childhood. I suppose I'll start with my parents," Kjell cleared his throat. "My father was an Imperial, a priest of Akatosh, and my mother was a Nord with a special affinity for magic. She met my father in Bruma, where they got married. When my mother discovered I was going to be born, she and my father moved to a small village outside of Falkreath in Skyrim. We lived there with no problems, until I was about eleven years old, the Thalmor, swarmed my village and burned everything. This was sometime after the Great War, by way. I lost my ma and my pa in that fire. They told me to run, and I did. All the way to Falkreath." Kjell began coughing ferociously, to the point where he couldn't breathe. Several servants rapidly appeared, a couple held him up, while the other held a goblet to his mouth. The coughing immediately seized. Marcurio waited as the Emperor caught his breath.

"Well, that was certainly a sickly bout, wasn't it?" Emperor Kjell joked as if nothing had happened. "Now, where was I? Ah, right, Falkreath. I stayed outside of the city's gates, sleeping on the ground for nearly two weeks. It was only when the local innkeeper and his son were out hunting when they found me. I was near starved, but the innkeeper, Hargrir, let me stay with his family in exchange for working at the inn. He and his son, Logrolf, taught me how to hunt and handle a sword. I stayed with Hargrir and his family for fourteen years. On my 25th birthday, I decided to leave Falkreath and visit Cyrodiil, the home of my parents. That's where the story _really_ begins."

Marcurio continued to scribble rigorously on the parchment, going through several sheets before stopping to take a breath. Kjell laughed heartily.

"Hope you have enough to finish it all. Divines know there's a lot more to be said!" Emperor Kjell chuckled.

Marcurio smiled. "Yes, I'm as prepared as I could be."

"Good. All right, I'll start off again where I left for Cyrodiil."


End file.
